Had it Coming
by Zimgirl915
Summary: Louise lived to torment people for her own personal entertainment. The classic story of a five star bully that gets whats coming to her, when she decides to harass and taunt a peculiar bus monitor for way too long. Louise finds herself in a realm that teaches her to gain more perspective and to take a long look at what she had become.


I've always had this way of understanding, that more than anything else- the one thing that defines people, were the choices they made, and the things that they would give up in the process of making this particular decision.

Although, this theory did prove to be correct a collection of times. But from my experience, I've come to realize a slight flaw in this specific philosophy, all because of a simple question that popped into my head one morning: What if you don't know the right decision?

And as I thought about it more and more, my mind made it more complicated than it had to be, and I started to ask myself these complex questions that I just couldn't seem to answer: If someone were basing their decisions on good and evil, what is really considered good? And what's considered evil?

Wrong from right? Which is the right choice? The wrong one?

What if the choices that you've made all you're life where wrong? Does that apparently make you a bad person?

Then I thought, if this theory was actually true, I'd probably be considered the most disliked and heartless person in the world. I would have probably been alone my whole life, and for a while that's all I wanted, to be alone, with the occasional entertainment of coarse.

Did stories ever take ten minutes to tell and develop character? No. So here's the deal, I'm starting way back when my life sort of resembled normal…'regular' if you will, then I'm going to work my way up to 'anything but'.

Thus this story starts a prolonged length of a time ago, but I'm not going to give you my whole life story, only the parts that are relevant.

See I'm a person that can appreciate stories unravel with anticipation.

I enjoy-scratch that, I love cartoons. Who doesn't? There's no question that I'm infatuated with this topic. And I didn't just like circumstantial types of animation, no, I loved them all, if they're funny I'll watch them, simple as that.

They usually met my expectations of being laughable and inviting. But don't think for a second that I didn't know there were cartoons out there of poor quality because I did.

People out there abuse the art of satire, by making obnoxious moving pictures, I get it.

But lets all put that aside for now and say there are only good cartoons in my story.

I'm going to at as civilized and as subtle as I can, when I say this next statement: my life was boring. And I do mean boring. Everyone knew it. In my free time, which I did have a lot of, what with the uneventful cycle of my existence and such, I didn't really hesitate to announce how much I detested everything about my miserable duration.

Sure people called me a cynical bitch because of it, but hey it was nothing a little punch to their throat wouldn't repair.

Back to the subject at hand, I was an unhappy child, again, another understatement but I'm just being honest.

There wasn't a lot of anything to begin with, to cause me this much grief, or hardship, I just was.

My therapist had said multiple times, that it was because of my mom's passing that I emotionally damage and hurt anybody that tries to come near except my dad.

And because of the fact, that I didn't have a female, mother figure there for me during my teen years.

But… I had always suspected that the middle aged physician only prescribed a type of condition to mark me off in some sort of category of un-wellness to make sense of my obscure, sadistic/bitter behavior.

Of coarse that was just me being the cynical bitch that I was.

I suppose all of his hypothesis's weren't just bull shit. I don't know about the part having to do with missing my mom, after she died. I hated her. She was an awful mommy.

I'm not going to waste my time deciphering the horribleness that was my mother, but I'll try my hardest to explain it in just a few words: spiteful, cheating, whore…yeah, that's about right.

I swear, the only thing I remember about this woman was the fact that she was never interested in talking to me or was ever interested in in me, in general. I also remember she complained infinite times, about not having 'freedom', with a husband and kid shackling her from potential greatness.

She was a delight. But what was even more delightful, was her substantial demise. See one of mommy's favorite hobbies was cheating on my dad.

So one cold evening in the wonderful world of Chicago, she decides to have one of her little afternoon affairs in our brand new Mercedes van.

Unfortunately, for the ungrateful milf; while her and her special guy friend were going at it, they both failed to realize that they were in a closed garage, with the engine running, and the heat on maximum high. The smoke filled the small capacity with ease.

They both dropped dead in about 20 minutes. They definitely died happy.

I guess you can say I was a little resentful towards her.

When the police found the bodies in our dangerously smoke filled garage and informed my dad about it, he was surprisingly void of any emotion.

I don't think I've ever seen him cry once about the incident, he never really confronted me about it either, I sort of found out on my own when the police told him.

It was not like I wanted him to talk about it with me but it still would have been nice to know he would have been there for me or to at least see if I was ok, I was only six at the time.

At school, everyone tried to keep a safe distance from me, I was…scary, and to be honest, a bit of a bully. I just wasn't a nice person, it wasn't my thing.

Still, that didn't stop kids from trying to befriend me, though had failed miserably.

I also didn't go looking for people to bully, I let them come up to me, which was a lot of the time.

But there were two kids that had stuck by me for a while for some unknown reason, Kyle and Rose.

I treated them like I treated everybody else-like shit, but they stayed me and after I while I toned my harsh nature down just for them. Rose was probably the only female I didn't hate. And Kyle was just my life, if anyone hurt him, I would have found those fuckers and…I'm going to stop there…

I looked almost identical to my mom. I know, regrettably, I was cursed with her dingy colored hair and overly vapid facial structure. To be specific long loose hair with grey dull eyes to match my dull life altogether. What my dad saw in that woman I will never comprehend.

It could be possible, that my dad isn't really my real dad, considering the small detail that my mom was a-for lack of a better word-tramp.

It wouldn't have come as a surprise if I found out, that I could have been the love child of a remarkably loveless reunion.

I would still have preferred my own dad even if I did somehow have a biological father. I for one never believed the saying,' Blood is Thicker than Water.'

I wore a cap anywhere I went, have I mentioned before that I hate my hair? Because I do, I simply detest my coiled mane, it was a nuisance that went down to the small of my back and I never bothered cutting it.

The purple cap gave me a sense of security I presumed.

I felt better with my hat on, I remember the front of it said,' I don't suck, I BITE'-don't ask.

Anyway, I met Kyle and Rose in freshman year of high school. I can still recall the way I met them both, when I met Kyle… I was walking down the school hallway and I was late for my first period class, when someone had hit my shoulder.

And it had to have been hard, seeing that my book bag fell off my shoulder and all my school related items went sprawling across the white and tanned(slightly unkempt) tiled floor.

I had turned around calmly, as I did before I lost it completely and went wild on whoever decided to hit my shoulder blade.

First I looked at the mess on the ground, then I looked upwards to find that the person that bumped into me was a guy and he was currently walking away, head straight as if nothing happened.

I was already getting pissed at this counterfeit punk who thought he could've gotten away and not apologizing for fracturing my shoulder-ok, maybe he didn't cause any physical harm to my arm but I was still mad.

And at that point in my life, it would have taken a miracle to let something go and pass up the opportunity to make that potentially boring morning interesting.

"Dumbass." Came my oh so blistering insult to the boy, it was pretty lame but I just wanted his attention.

The boy's dark brown hair shriveled around his head as he turned to see who's monotonic-like voice belonged to. His face was screwed up in a scowl but softened considerably when he realized who had said these words to him. Although, I didn't see how that mattered at all.

Though his softened expression was short-lived as it rapidly went back to its original contortion.

I took notice that his face was tanned, a light brown almost, at the time I momentarily became confused as I had deemed his face of any importance but I did nevertheless.

"Where you off to?"

"I'm sorry," he started in a gruff voice. "You got a problem?"

I stepped closer, calmly. "Acting all big and tough aren't you scrappy," I chuckle a bit. "You look like a little pussy to me."

He seemed surprised as my unchanging, dull temper and voice still summoned a sort of intensity as I walked closer to him. I was pleased to see we were about the same size. "Was there something you needed, because I have to be somewhere."

I chuckled again, "Is that right? Well I guess whatever loser is actually waiting for you will have to wait a little longer won't he?"

He scowled at me but he had still stayed in his spot. "Look, I don't know what your problem is but,-"

"My problem is you fucker," I had proceeded to shove him forcefully, almost sending him crashing into one of the blue lockers next to us.

His eyes widened, "Hey!"

He somehow regained balance, before he fell onto the floor and stood up straight again, while I took half a step back just in case he desired to punch me. Which does happen a lot, after all I did fuck with people on a daily basis.

He glared at me. Which to my surprise, is all he did. I cracked my neck, "Going to do something short stuff?"

The boy gave me an exasperated look, to which I grinned and shoved his shoulder again, making him stumble back a little.

He did nothing, and just looked at me with big curious, brown eyes.

I frowned and gave him a cold glare. He wasn't complying, he was suppose to get mad.

I wasn't going to waste my time anymore so I bent down and picked up my binder, folders and my ID…

He snatched the ID out of my hand, and I looked across from me to see he was reading it, eyes furrowed and concentrating. "Louise."

"Great you can read, I'm a little relieved, I thought you were retarded." I shot. And much to my annoyance, he ignores the comment and says something that totally caught me off guard.

"That's a nice name, Louise."

My bored-looking face didn't waver, it never did. "Fuck off, I don't have conversations with faggots, kay?"

He bit his lip. "What class do you have know Louise?"

"Give me my ID." Came my humdrum reply.

"Because I was in Spanish, Louise."

"Why the hell, do you keep saying my name after every sentence?"

"Just sort of, testing it…Louise."

I grunted in reply. " Give me my ID."

"Can I walk you to your class Louise?"

"If you don't give me my ID in the next two seconds, I'm kicking you in the dick."

"My name is Kyle."

I licked my lips, and slap my gums in annoyance, he was not going to give me my ID, so I just had to entertain the idea that I gave two shits about what he was saying.

"Kyle?"

He nods, and I study his face for a second, I took in his features, and noted the dark circles under his eyes. I also took note that a hint of red hue came upon his tanned cheeks as I observed him, he was blushing.

My dead panned expression still didn't shift as I said. "That's a stupid name."

He doesn't even blink. He smiles, actually smiles. Practically beaming at me as he hands me the ID, I snatch it roughly out of his hand.

"I like you." He states.

"Oh, yeah?"

He nods.

"Interesting, I got a question, is your penis as small as your brain, faggot?"

He rolls his eyes, "Stop talking, if you don't have anything nice to say don't say it, in that case you would probably be mute."

"Its probably smaller than your brain isn't it?"

He snickers. "You know, I've only talked to you in like ten minutes and I can already tell you're a very hateful person."

"No ones asking you to stay, I certainly don't want you here."

"You're right I should probably walk away right now because of you're attitude, but I wont."

"Why don't you?"

"Because you're interesting." He states with a smile.

I gulp loudly before saying. "You're no fun."

He laughs in surprise.

From that day on, wherever I was he would somehow find me and casually try to start a pleasant conversation, like about the weather, politics, even once he tried having a full out conversation about the color of the lockers, to which I finally and bluntly replied after five minutes of his talking, "What does it matter what color the lockers are? Nobody uses them Dumbass."

But of coarse he laughs and waves me off and that usual nonchalant way of his.

I tell jokes. And not in the usual ha-ha sense but more in the over the line perverted kind of jokes that sort of insult people. As long as it was funny to me I didn't care.

I would laugh cruelly in their face and walk off.

I believed in karma. And I knew-anticipated silently and patiently, that the instant it would reach me, and invoke it's wrath upon my being, its going to claw its way into my cold inanimate heart and make it suffer.

No, I knew I couldn't be grim and despicable towards everybody and everything for long, I guess I felt like I deserved it.

I feel like this retribution was especially made for me. I had it coming.


End file.
